Where we are
by A Nameless Traveler
Summary: "So how's operation 'Give Scott McCall a blowjob and a day off from Beacon Hills' going?" OR, Derek Hale shows up on Scott's doorstep with no warning and tells him they're going on a vacation. Away from Beacon Hills and all of its chaos. Scerek.


**Title:** Where we are  
 **Author:** ANTchan  
 **Fandom:** Teen Wolf  
 **Rating/Genre:** Romance/T  
 **Pairings:** Derek Hale/Scott McCall  
 **Summary:** _"So how's operation 'Give Scott McCall a blowjob and a day off from Beacon Hills' going?"_

OR, Derek Hale shows up on Scott's doorstep with no warning and tells him they're going on a vacation. Away from Beacon Hills and all of its chaos.

 **This story includes** hurt/comfort, so much pining, Scott feels, referenced open relationships (Draeden), and a sad lack of actual blowjobs. Whoops.

* * *

 **Where we are**

 _For Leigh._

* * *

-1-

Scott knows something's happened when he comes home from the clinic to find his mother crying. She's sitting at the table, in front of their ever growing stacks of bills, just like she always seems to be now. Melissa often adds up their debts when he's not home, especially now that she knows about the supernatural. Now that she knows he can sense her anxiety. But still, it's rare for him to come home to her in tears. And _terrifying._

"Mom?" he stands just inside the door, unsure if he should be rushing to her side or searching the house for threats.

But when Melissa raises her head, there's a smile on her face. It's out of place, with everything that's happened in the past two years. Her face flushes a deeper pink at the sight of him, her smile sheepish. She wipes her eyes with a watery laugh. "Hi, sweetheart," she sniffs.

"Is everything okay?" Scott is hesitant to ask.

"Oh, sweetheart." Her smile is positively beaming. Melissa stands and goes to him, taking his face in her hands and kissing his forehead. " _Sweetheart_ , yes. Everything's okay. I'm just… I'm so proud of you." Her voice is wavering again, doing horrible things to Scott's nerves. "I love you so much, baby."

"Um. I… love you too, Mom."

It doesn't get any less weird from there. Not that his mother telling him she loves him is weird. But the sudden emotional outburst worries him. A lot of things worry him now.

But his mother seems to worry… less? In the days that follow, the tension eases from Melissa's shoulders, bit by bit. Her smiles are more relaxed, even when she's tired after a shift. And she's _texting_ someone now. At first Scott doesn't think anything of it. But the musical jingle of her text alerts become a common sound in the house.

She's met someone. That has to be it. Or she's finally started dating Sheriff Stilinski?

He musters up the courage to ask Stiles about it, pushing past the tension that's been hanging over them for months.

Things… haven't been the same since they overcame the Dread Doctors, La Bete, and Theo's Pack. The asthma attacks, brought on by the Pathologist and wolfsbane, have finally stopped. But other things - they aren't fixing themselves with time. His healing, especially. It doesn't work as it should anymore. He's healing, but he's not healing _right._ The flesh knits back together, the muscles and bone realign, but the pain never goes away. Scott can feel them with every breath, every movement. Like his body has been pulled taut, like he's stretched too thin.

It's like sophomore year all over again - feeling wrong inside his own skin, like his new life is trying to drag him under. He worries about everything. About new threats to the territory. About his grades. About getting into UC Davis, about how to _pay_ for UC Davis. About his Pack, if they'll ever really be Pack again.

Scott and the others; things are never going to be the same between them ever again. They came together to defeat the Dread Doctors, but it didn't magically fix their problems, or the fact that Scott failed them as an Alpha. Liam still radiates guilt and hurt, no matter what Scott tells him. Malia is still unsure of where she stands with him. Lydia's distanced herself, though no one blames her for it at all.

He and Kira - well, they called it "taking a break to put their lives back together" but it plays out a lot like being broken up. Scott still loves her. But the past six months (the past two _years_ ) have taught him the difference between loving someone and being in a place where a relationship can be healthy.

Stiles… they've worked out their differences in the short term, but things aren't the same. Scott doubts they'll ever be the same. They've found themselves in the stage where they're walking on eggshells, tiptoeing around things that - Scott knows - they need to talk about. Both of them, it seems, are too afraid of losing each other Scott's beginning to see hope with them; that maybe they've come out of this with a new understanding of one another that will make them stronger in the end.

Now if only they can get past the awkward part of their reconciliation.

-2-

About a month after coming home to his mother crying (and a few weeks after realizing it wasn't the Sheriff she's been texting) everyone starts acting… odd.

Look, the Pack has never been subtle. Around day two into conversations being hastily cut off when he's in earshot and the Pack steadfastly avoiding his gaze, Scott knows something's up. It doesn't help his constantly growing anxiety any.

What happens is that Scott pushes it out of his mind in favor of other things - his schoolwork and his ever-present worry that the next threat is just around the corner and hiding the fact that every move he makes is a lesson in low, radiating pain.

What happens is that they make it to spring break without being attacked.

What _happens_ is that Scott doesn't even smell the 'wolf ringing his doorbell until he's opening it, and finds Derek Hale standing on his front porch.

And Scott feels _weightless_ , like the floor has opened up beneath him and he's suddenly in freefall. His expression must be ridiculous, because Derek smiles at him. He looks _good_. He looks _happy_ , and not just in his smile. The flinty ice that had always been behind his eyes is gone. The _tension_ he always carried with him is gone. He's content, happy, _softer._ And Scott finds himself launching forward before the thought even finishes, flinging his arms around him before he can think better of it.

But he doesn't have to worry about the hug being unwelcome. Because Derek only makes a soft, surprised sound and then _hugs back_ , wrapping arms around him in a squeeze that makes his body ache. The momentary pain is worth it. Derek smells _amazing_ , warm and welcoming, and Scott's ashamed to say he presses his nose into his shoulder and breathes it in. His mind whispers, ' _Beta. My Beta. Mineminemine.'_ It's like all of his more traitorous thoughts come true - no, it's even better in reality.

"What are you doing here?" he asks in an excited rush, pulling away before he can do something stupid.

"I'm here for you."

And, _what._

There's no hiding the flutter of his heart. Derek's smile edges into predatory, because he's _evil._

"Go pack your stuff."

"What?" he blurts.

"You're going on vacation. Go pack for a week. Hiking, beach, and swimming." Derek's brows arch when he doesn't move a muscle. "Go on."

"I can't-huh?" There are two more heartbeats in the foyer. Stiles has come downstairs and Melissa has wandered in from the office at some point. The sly smiles on both of their faces makes him pause. "You… _this_ is what you were planning?" he asks incredulously, pointing at Derek. " _This_ is who you've been texting for months?"

" _This_ ," Derek interjects, "is waiting for you to get going."

Scott ignores him in favor of gesturing at his mother. "I thought you were dating someone! You're… you're not, right? I mean, if you were dating that'd be… but not _Derek_ right?"

"What? _No!_ " Melissa exclaims, and then cringes sheepishly at the man in the doorway. "No offense, Derek."

"None taken. Scott, go get your stuff."

But when Scott balks, and tries to protest, Stiles steps forward to grab his arm. "Yup, he's on it," he says before Scott even has the chance to speak, "I started pulling some stuff down already."

" _Stiles-_ " He wants to stop him, but it's the first time in so long that Stiles has touched him without reservation - without visibly stopping to weigh the chances. And he's wanted that, he's wanted that since _before_ everything went wrong. So he lets Stiles pull him up the stairs and into his room. His duffle has already been thrown onto the bed, along with his swim trunks and some of his favorite pairs of jeans. Just seeing them makes something cold and sick turn over in his stomach. "I can't leave."

Stiles stops listing all the things Scott will need to pack with an exaggerated sway. "What now?"

"I can't _leave_ , Stiles. What if something happens? It's been like eight months since everything happened, and-"

"No. Nope. Don't go talking 'regression to the mean' again, Scott. Not this time. Of _all of us_ , you need a break from this place."

Scott wonders if he should be offended by that. "What do you mean 'of all of us'?"

"Okay fair, I mean none of us are exactly winning any prizes when it comes to dealing with trauma, but at least we're finding ways to _deal with it._ You, buddy? You've been doing this internalizing, self-sacrificing thing since sophomore year. And don't think we haven't noticed. So you're going to go off away from our lovely little Hellmouth for a week. We'll call you if anything happens."

Scott huffs. "I don't even need to listen to your heartbeat to know that's a lie."

"Touche," Stiles admits, pointing at him. "But you're still going-"

"You're going or I'm coming up there and dragging you out!" Derek calls from downstairs. Actually _shouts_ it instead of just speaking at a normal volume, so he means it to be heard by everyone.

"-or Derek's going to manhandle you out into his soccer dad car." He waits for Scott to relent, and when Scott doesn't say anything for a few moments, he sighs. "Look, I wasn't going to tell you this yet, but while you're gone, Lydia, Deaton, Mason, and I are going to research a way to control everyone's favorite sentient tree stump. So that when we go off to college we won't have to worry about a supernatural disaster every other month. Okay? You can go and _relax_ for a week. You've been trying to carry all the weight since this whole thing started. Let someone else have a turn for a while. We've got this."

"I… okay."

The admission seems to surprise his best friend, who was already gearing up for another argument. He blinks, and then grimaces. "Aw, no, buddy don't give me The Eyes."

Scott flushes. "Huh?"

" _The Eyes_. The sweet, 'I don't know why I'm getting nice things' eyes. I can't handle that. Come on." He turns in a whirlwind of motion, a disgruntled sound coming out of his mouth. The back of his neck has flushed pink. Scott smiles gently, which doesn't seem to soothe Stiles any. "Oh, stop smiling and come help me pack for you! Just because this is a pamper Scott week does _not_ mean you're getting out of packing."

So Scott does, even though he's not quite sure what to think about this violent shift in his routine. He helps gather up his clothes and essentials, everything that can fit in his duffle bag. And as the minutes tick by, his anxiety shifts. It doesn't fade, no, not really. But it feels lighter. A happy kind of anxiety, almost _excitement._

"Here, just in case."

Scott catches the item Stiles tosses without thinking. And then nearly drops it when he realizes Stiles has just thrown him his box of condoms. " _Stiles!"_

"What?" he asks cheekily. "That's still _a thing,_ right?"

Scott regrets ever admitting that he finds Derek attractive. He contemplates throwing the box at Stiles' head when the other boy stashes his bottle of lube in the side pocket.

"Just in case~," Stiles repeats.

"Not gonna happen," Scott mutters. And this conversation needs to end _now_ , before Derek can hear them. He zips up his bag and slings it over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Stiles in warning before he leaves. He knows Stiles will follow him, and so he doesn't wait to trudge back downstairs. He gets there just in time to hear Derek ask: "So have things been better?"

HIs mother's heart skips a beat. "Oh god, you have _no_ idea," she sighs happily. "Derek, I can't thank you enough - no, _really_. Things have been getting worse for a long time and… and now it's like I can breathe again. And, well, having normal shifts is always nice. You've done so much for us, and now this with Scott-"

"It's the least I could do," Derek tells her. There's a waver in his voice that sounds suspiciously flustered. "After everything-" And then he stops, his heart rate ticking up for an instant. "Scott, you ready to go?"

"...Yeah," Scott answers slowly. He turns into the foyer to see Derek and his mother waiting for him. Melissa has her "I have no idea what you're talking about" face on, even though Scott hasn't asked yet. And Derek…

The tips of his ears are pink. It is… hell, Scott didn't even know what to do with the Derek that was all teeth and hard edges. How can he be expected to know how to handle this new, softer Derek, who wears soft looking henleys and lets his beard grow out until it's soft and frames his jaw and blushes adorably?

This is a disaster.

Scott hugs his mother goodbye, and avoids Stiles' pointed smirks on the way out. He follows Derek out to the car, questions on the tip of his tongue as they pile in. He waits, at least, until they're on the road to… wherever they're going, to speak up.

"What were you and my mom talking about?"

Derek is suspiciously silent, only tightening his grip around the steering wheel. Scott doesn't even let him come up with an evasion. He's seen enough of Derek's "I don't want to tell you" expression by this point.

"Really, dude? All of this and we're back to keeping secrets?"

The older man's eyes widen in genuine distress, and Scott almost feels bad about the accusation. "No!" Derek insists. "No, it's not a secret. I just don't know how to tell you without freaking you out."

"Derek… is someone dead?"

"...No."

"Is there some ancient evil headed for Beacon Hills?"

" _No_ , Scott. Christ."

Scott gestures pointedly between them. "So _tell me_. No one's dying and no one's coming to kill us. I can't be that bad."

Derek heaves a sigh, and Scott watches the rise and fall of his chest closely. "I…" There's a pause that does nothing to help Scott's nerves. "I gave your mom the money to pay off your house."

And Scott promptly chokes on his own breath. " _What-_ "

"And set up a college fund for you. Your tuition for Davis is paid for, all four years."

" _WHAT?_ "

Derek is starting to look unsure now, which, _good_ , he should be. Because _what the hell?_ "If you want it, I mean. It's there for you - you and all of the Pack. I offered it to Malia, Kira, Lydia, and Stiles too. Stiles is taking his," he hastens to say. As if that's going to make any of this _better_. "Malia doesn't want to go to college right now, but it'll be there if she ever decides to. Kira isn't sure about it. And Lydia told me no. So…"

" _Good!_ " he yelps. "Good, she shouldn't- you shouldn't be spending all of your money on us like that, Derek!"

"It's… Peter's money, actually."

The rant that had been forming in Scott's head abruptly vanishes. "Peter's?" he parrots.

"Yeah. After he was put in Eichen House, I was put in charge of his assets. All of them, even the money he was getting from… some really nasty businesses, Scott. So I gave the rest of his 117 million to people he's hurt. You, the Pack, Isaac, Jackson, Argent, Satomi. Anything that was left, I invested. Anything that gets made off of that money will be put into an account for the Pack's use. So when Liam and Mason - and Hayden, if she wants to stay - graduate, they'll have money for college too."

"So you stole all of Peter's money for us." And Scott shouldn't feel as _warm_ as he does at the idea. He really shouldn't.

Derek shifts in the driver's seat. "Not all of it. Just his 117 million that he kept in the vault. Anything he was getting from elsewhere has been reinvested in more _legal_ markets. So he'll have money to live off of that when he gets out of Eichen. _If_ he gets out of Eichen." He glances at over at Scott, hesitant. Oddly… soft. Vulnerable. "Will you use the money for school?"

Affection swells in his chest, so strong and sudden that Scott nearly leans over and kisses Derek right there. He has to clench his hands into fists, let his nails bite into his palms to stop himself, and hope that the older werewolf doesn't notice the spike in his pulse or in his scent. "Yeah, I'll use it," he answers. His voice comes out strange. He hopes Derek doesn't notice that either. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that. Or this - this… vacation, thing."

"Yes, I did," Derek says earnestly. "For you, I did."

Oh god.

Fuck everything. Scott can't handle this. He can't spend a week with this man.

He's _going to die._

-3-

Their destination turns out to be four hours south of Beacon Hills, and along the coast. They spend a good hour just driving along Route 1 with the shoreline on their right. It makes for amazing scenery, at least. But otherwise, Derek is frustratingly silent about where they're going, until they turn off into a town that's not even half the size of Beacon Hills in the early afternoon. In fact, it appears to be five intersections, a main commercial and business district, and a two neighborhoods on either side of said district. Scott peers at the town as Derek drives through it, passing the more populated town center and heading towards the shore.

They pass through a densely wooded lane, and exit right into a hill, on which stands an old Victorian manor. It had to have been breathtaking, once. It's still a beautiful home, with its spires and sprawling veranda. Scott can see a balcony along the steep edge of the hill, and stairs leading to the beach below But the house old, worn, and in clear need of repairs.

There's a Hale Triskele on one of the gate markers.

"Derek…"

"This was something like a summer home to my family," he replies, before Scott can even ask. "A place to be away from Beacon Hills. There's nothing supernaturally remarkable about this place at all. There's nothing to be protected, here. It's just a town." Scott's heart is in his throat as they pull to a stop in front of the house. He climbs out of the car, wincing as his muscles protest his long hours in Derek's SUV. He stares up at the old house, and finds it oddly welcoming.

"Sorry, it's not…" Derek shrugs uselessly. "I had someone from the town come and clean out a few rooms, so it's livable. Enough for us for a week."

"No, no, it's fine. It's wonderful. Really!" He shoulders his bag and follows Derek up the front steps. "I'm just… wondering why you wanted to take me out here, is all? I mean, what are we going to do out here?"

The manor's foyer is clean, even if the house does smell faintly stale and moldy. The light from the window above fills the room with sunbeams. But Derek, Derek actually looks embarrassed. His shoulders have hunched up, and he's having a hard time looking at Scott and… and he can't handle this. _Seriously._ "I didn't plan anything past getting you out of Beacon Hills," Derek admits. His pulse, however, flutters just a bit. Not exactly a lie, but hiding something. "My family used to enjoy the forest and the beach. So you could, too? I can give you space if you'd rather-"

"No! I want you here with me." He doesn't register just how that sounds until the words are out of his mouth, and then he wants to shrink into the floor in _horror_. His face heats.

"Oh," Derek says softly. And just kill Scott _now_ , because Derek ducks his head just slightly, as if that's going to hide the pleased little smile on his face. "Alright. Uh, I'll show you where your room is." He beckons Scott up the stairs, saving Scott from making an even bigger fool of himself. "His room" turns out to be the master bedroom. He wants to protest, but the Beta makes it clear that he's going to hear none of that, and leaves to go unpack in his own room before Scott has the chance.

Derek's footsteps pad down the hall a ways, to the next bedroom. But after the door creaks open, there's a pause, and a displeased hum. It makes Scott pause in unpacking (in stashing the damning box of condoms and the lube in the back of a drawer) to listen to him walk from room to room, opening doors as he goes.

When Scott is finished putting his things away, he finds Derek in the sitting room on the second floor landing. "You didn't pick a room?" he asks, pointing at Derek's bag on the sofa. He worries, for a moment, that the memories of the house were too much for him. But Derek looks more embarrassed than distraught.

"Uh, I think there was a misunderstanding with the woman I hired to clean out rooms," he says slowly. "It looks like yours is the only bedroom that was cleaned out." He sighs, gesturing to the sofa. "I can clean out one for myself, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. Looks like I'll be sleeping out here tonight."

"You don't have to do that," Scott pleads. "It's your house. I can sleep out here for a night."

"You're my _guest,_ Scott. I can't let you sleep on the couch. I'll be comfortable out here." He doesn't have to listen for the lie. The couch looks anything but comfortable. It's clean, thanks to whoever Derek had prepping the house for them. But it looks like something out of the late 90s. High class late 90s furniture, but still something that's over a decade old and has seen better days. And Scott doesn't even have to ask to know that it'll be too small for Derek's frame.

"Look…" The words die in his throat, however. What is he going to suggest? That they share the master bedroom? Probably, and oh, that makes his heart race. No, he can't suggest that. No, this vacation so far has been one humiliating slip up after another.

This was supposed to be a crush. One that's been fading in and out of Scott's existence for years. One that Scott was supposed to let fade back into friendship, which is something that seemed like a _dream_ in those early days. Scott wasn't supposed to _miss_ Derek this much. To want to drink him in and never let go now that he's suddenly back. For only this week, probably.

" _Just in case,"_ Stiles had teased. But now in Scott's memory it sounds like _"Take your chance before it's too late._ "

But Derek is watching him with a perplexed frown, and Scott loses all courage. "We'll talk about it later?" he finishes his thought weakly.

Smooth, Scott. Very smooth.

-4-

They end up going into town for groceries instead of arguing, so Scott is saved from making a fool out of himself again. The little town has exactly two grocery stores - a Wal-Mart just outside of town, and a little grocer that's probably been there as long as the town has. He isn't surprised at all when Derek takes him to the latter, with only a mumbled explanation that his family always went to this store when they visited.

The bored looking 20-something behind the counter perks up when they walk in, peering unashamedly at them. "Welcome to Rife's Market," they chirp. And even after Scott waves back, they don't turn away. Their eyes track his and Derek's movement across the store.

"Um," he mutters to Derek once they duck down an aisle.

Derek sighs, but says nothing. He doesn't really need to when they both can clearly hear the cashier slipping into the back room and announcing "I think Derek Hale just got here! And his _friend_ is with him," in a pseudo whisper.

Derek tips his head towards the ceiling, as if asking it for strength. Scott bites his lip to keep from laughing at him. "You can't go anywhere, can you?" he teases.

"We're from Beacon Hills. You know how it is. The whole town will know in half an hour."

"Are you like a celebrity here to get recognized so fast?"

"No, this is just-"

"Derek _Hale_ , is that you?" There's an older, dark-skinned woman bearing down on them from other end of the aisle, bounding towards them with surprising grace. She heads straight for Derek, enveloping him in a bear hug without hesitation. Scott's mouth falls open in shock as he watches. Barring the single, impulsive embrace they'd shared just this morning, Scott's never even considered other people showing Derek casual affection. But Derek doesn't shy away, though he looks a bit uncomfortable.

"Missus Rife," Derek greets.

The woman tsks and interrupts him. " _Shonda_ , sweetheart. No _Missus Rife_ from you." And Derek somehow manages to give off an air of squirming even as he stays still. "How are you? Did you just get in?"

"We stopped up at the house to drop off our things. Thanks for clearing out the rooms for us," Derek replies, a little stiffly.

"Oh, it was no trouble. I had Lonna and Harley to help us. Put their young legs to work! It was worth it, too, to see you back in my store. We never thought we'd see you again after what happened." She seems to know when she's hit a tender subject, at least, because instead of letting it descend into awkward silence she refocuses. On Scott. "Is this your _friend_ , Derek?"

Scott… really isn't sure about the inflection in that. And oh, _oh god,_ this is why only one bedroom was cleaned out. "Um."

"Shonda, this is Scott McCall…"

She offers her hand, which Scott hesitantly takes. It's hard not to feel _meek_ when she's practically _leering_ at him. "It's good to meet you, Scott McCall," she says smoothly, but there's a sly knowing to her words that makes his face heat. "I've been so excited to meet the young man who's snared Derek's heart. The way he went on-"

"We're not-" both Derek and Scott blurt simultaneously. Derek shoots him a panicked look.

"Shonda, Scott has a-"

"And Derek has-"

"Boys," the older woman placates, "it's alright. There's no need to panic, now. We're all very happy for you. And you seem like a lovely young man, Scott."

"Um. Thank you?" Scott glances timidly at Derek, who's staring resolutely at the shelves behind Shonda, his face growing steadily redder.

From there they are properly escorted around the store for their shopping list by the bustling woman, intent on seeing that their every need is met. They don't make any further attempts to correct her misconception. The doting, knowing looks she keeps giving them squashes any desire to speak up.

It's not until they're packing the groceries into the car that Scott dares to say something. "You know…" he pipes up, "I'm not actually with… Kira and I split up?"

Derek freezes, grocery bag in hand. "You did?" he asks softly.

"Yeah. After everything that happened, we just… we wanted to get our lives back together. So we agreed to split up. Take some time. Maybe see other people, if we wanted?"

"Oh." The other man frowns thoughtfully. "And you're happy with it?"

"Yeah, I guess. I love her still. But things weren't great, and I didn't want to end up hurting her with my bullshit. She has enough on her plate already."

Derek looks at him sharply as he says it, his lips pursing as if he wants to say something. "Braeden and I aren't exclusive either," he admits after a few moments, which makes Scott's heart leap in a way it _shouldn't._ "She's still going after the Desert Wolf, and she's not going to stop until it's over. It might never be over. And I'm… I'm ready to settle down."

"Settle down? Like getting married and having kids settling down?"

That brings a smile to the Beta's face. Scott's eyes drop down to his mouth and quickly away, before he's noticed. "Maybe not that far yet. But a home is a good place to start. And maybe someone to share it with."

"That's… that's good, man. I'm happy for you."

Derek's eyes catch his, soft and grateful, and Scott tries not to think about just how much _he_ wants to be that person in that instant.

-5-

The use the rest of the day as best they can. Derek takes him out into the forest, far off any beaten path. They can't sense anyone for miles, so Derek strips down (while Scott resolutely _does not look_ ), stuffs his clothes into a drawstring bag, and shifts into the wolf. Scott hooks the bag over his shoulders and relaxes into his his own shift, with Derek gently wagging his tail at his side.

They go running through the woods, Derek a dark, fast shape zipping between the trees ahead of him. They take turns chasing each other, challenging one another in low growls. And one they catch one another they go sliding along the forest floor, snapping playfully and wrestling. Derek ends up grabbing him by the waistband of his jeans and shaking him off balance, before Scott pounces on him. It hurts - just like _everything_ hurts for Scott nowadays. But he won't stand for Derek's concerned whines whenever a movement makes his entire body throb painfully, and only redoubles his efforts.

They don't stop until they no longer have the energy to move. Until they're sprawled in the dirt with Derek's head resting on Scott's stomach. God, it's sweet. It's _too sweet_ and everything hurts, but Scott wouldn't exchange this for anything. He throws caution to the wind and cards his fingers through Derek's soft, dark fur. And Derek… lets him. Even relaxes into him.

The sun is setting by the time Derek finally moves. He leaves Scott prone on the ground, padding over to their bag, which had been tossed carelessly away during their playfighting. Scott listens to him walk out of view and shift back, and tries not to think too hard about what Derek looks like naked. (Not that he has to imagine much. He's already seen him naked once, after Mexico. It… It may have featured in some of his more exciting fantasies since then.)

(...That isn't something Scott should be thinking about right now.)

His phone saves him from his thoughts, buzzing in his back pocket. They must've gone close enough to the town, if he still has signal. He drags it from his pocket with a wince, his body protesting every twist.

 _So how's operation "Give Scott McCall a blowjob and a day off from Beacon Hills" going?_

Sore body be damned, Scott shoots upright, reading Stiles' message over and over again as if it will somehow magically turn into something different.

 _UM._

The pause before Stiles responds might as well be an eternity with how fast his heart is suddenly racing.

 _SHIT WRONG PERSON FUCK FORGET YOU SAW ANYTHING._

He's three words into his reply when Derek comes dashing back into sight. " _Scott?_ " his question comes out panicked, voice raised as if he were expecting a threat. But when he sees Scott sitting on the ground, his brows furrow. Scott doesn't want to think about what he looks like. His face feels like it's on fire. "What happened?"

Words fail him, so instead of a proper explanation he just gestures dumbly at his phone, eyes wide. "Stiles," he says. "O-Operation 'Give Scott Mc-'" Thankfully, he doesn't have to actually say it. That's all it takes for Derek's face to go _bright red._

Neither of them speaks for while.

"Stiles, he… he's being a little shit," Derek mutters. "Making bad jokes. He's been doing it for weeks."

"...Oh." His heart sinks. Stupid. _Stupid_. He shouldn't be _disappointed_ over something as silly as this. Of course it's Stiles making off color jokes. "He does that, yeah." Derek's looking at him funny again, and Scott clears his throat to make up for the silence. "So are you ready to head back?" He pulls himself to his feet so fast that the pain is like a lightning strike down his spine. He sways, only to have Derek steady him with hand to his elbow.

The other werewolf has better control than Scott does to not reflexively take his pain right there. He's always had better control.

The walk back to the house is… awkward, to say the least. Dinner isn't much better, even if they both pretend everything's fine.

By the time they're getting ready for bed, Scott despairs that he's ruined the entire vacation with his stupidity.

' _What else is new?'_

Derek still insists on attempting to sleep on the couch. Scott peers at him from the hall as he arranges a pillow and blanket on the too small, too cramped sofa. No matter what Scott has tried, Derek refuses to take the bed.

Which, really, leaves Scott with one other option - one that makes his palms go sweaty and his body shake with nerves. But Derek senses him before he can gather the courage to approach, cocking his head back. Scott knows he's listening to his heartbeat. Maybe gauging his mood through his scent. "Scott?" he asks softly, turning to look at him. "There something you want to ask?"

Fuck, he's so dead. Derek _knows_ , he has to. "Uh, I… just…" Miserable and frustrated and far too sore to deal with this, Scott just _goes for it._ "We can share the bed, Derek. You don't have to- I'm- I'd like if you did."

And now he's being stared at in disbelief, Derek's brows drawn low over his eyes and his mouth dropping open. As if that hadn't been what Derek was expecting him to ask and _Scott wants to crawl into a hole and die._ It would be less mortifying than this. He's just contemplating an escape when something passes over Derek's face. His head tilts, eyes drifting over him, _intent._ There's something… Scott can't name it, but it makes his body _tingle_ all over. His mouth goes dry.

"Okay," Derek murmurs. He raises a finger. "On one condition."

Scott's throat clicks as he swallows around the lump in his throat. "Yeah?"

The other 'wolf holds out a hand. Scott stares at it until Derek's fingers twitch, beckoning. "Give me your hand," Derek tells him. His stomach sinks, and his elation goes with it as surely as a balloon stuck with a pin. He reflexively tries to hide his hands, which doesn't make him look innocent in the _slightest_. Derek raises a knowing brow at him. "Come on, Scott."

He's been caught, and outright refusing or denying it will just start a fight. Another pointless fight in the long string of them in their friendship and Scott is so _tired_. So he sighs, eyes downcast, and shuffles forward to reluctantly place his hand in Derek's. Whatever joy he'd have at holding Derek's hand is overcast by the guilt, the dread, when Derek's veins flow black, and the pain ebbs with it.

Derek's eyes widen, and Scott jerks his hand away. "Sorry," he mutters quickly.

" _Scott_ …" Derek breathes harshly. He can practically hear the clench of his jaw around his name. "Are you…" Scott fights not to flinch away when Derek steps closer. "How long has it been like this?"

He shrugs. "A while. It's not that bad."

" _Not that-_ " The man takes a slow breath, like he's gathering his strength. "Scott, you shouldn't be in pain. Is it all the time?"

His silence is damning enough.

"Okay… okay. Come on." A hand grasps Scott's arm, but the pain isn't taken from him again. He's guided into the master bedroom and Scott tries not to let the more traitorous thoughts take hold. About how good it feels for Derek to touch him. Or about them sleeping in the same bed. Derek climbs right in, movements purposeful, and he stares Scott down until he follows suit. Even hiding his wince as he climbs in doesn't seem to do any good.

What's left is them awkwardly sitting up in bed for a few moments. The only thing in the silence is the steady, sure beat of Derek's heart and (Scott's sure) the nervous flutter of his own.

And then Derek is pulling him down, keeping a hand on Scott's shoulder as he fluffs the pillows and arranges the covers. All Scott can do is watch him, dreading what's going to come. Are they going to have a _Talk?_ Oh god, Scott doesn't think they can handle that. He can't take Derek being earnest and concerned at him.

The slow fade of pain makes him want to struggle again. "No," he pleads, pulling his arm away from Derek's black-veined hand.

Derek huffs in reproach. "Scott."

"I don't need that, okay?" But he _does_. He does, he does. Those few brief moments of painless existence were like heaven. Scott had almost forgotten what that was like, to not hurt every minute of the fucking day. "You don't need to take my pain, Derek."

"You're hurting."

"I'm the _Alpha_ ," Scott exclaims, "I can handle a little pain! I can take more than you can-"

"Do _not_ tell me how much pain I can take, Scott." The edge in Derek's voice has his mouth snapping shut; has his heart withering in his chest. "You know better than that." An apology springs to Scott's lips, but Derek's expression softens before he can say it. The hand at his arm rubs in gentle circles. "You don't have to take all this," he amends, "Alpha or not. You could've asked."

But he _couldn't_ have. He _can't,_ Scott wants to say. _He can't._ Even now the words lodge in his throat. He can't give someone his pain. It's his fault, his to bear, his to carry. He can't shove that onto anyone. It builds in him, these words, until it feels like they're suffocating him. Until it's hard to breathe.

"Let me help," Derek says, practically begs.

"I don't want to hurt you," Scott whispers.

"You won't. I won't take it all." He waits, at least, until Scott relents, hand unmoving on Scott's arm. And when Scott forces himself to let out the breath he's been holding and nods, Derek scoots closer. Close enough that he has to move his legs to give Derek room. The touches start slow, working soothing circles up his bicep to his shoulder. Over his back, down his spine and back up. It should feel awkward. It's not quite a massage, and not quite cuddling, but it's _intimate_ and every few seconds Derek saps away some of the pain. At first, Scott watches him closely, ready to pull away at the slightest flinch. But the Beta's expression stays soft, attentive.

They're drifting closer, Scott realizes with a belated jolt. And in the second before his heart skips a beat, he's being pulled into Derek's arms completely. He's being cradled up against that warm, firm body with a hand securely around his waist and another drifting up the back of his neck and into his hair. Scott's face is pressed in the crook of Derek's neck and all he can smell is the warm, earthy scent of his Beta around him and he _melts._ Just lets go and relaxes in Derek's embrace as he cards fingers through his hair.

The pain's fading faster than Scott knows how to deal with. It feels foreign. Like he can finally breathe again and it's too sharp, too much. "Derek," he calls, voice wavering. The other 'wolf is taking too much. He _has_ to be taking too much.

"It's alright," Derek comforts. "That's not me. That's you. You're healing, a little."

Scott squirms, unsure what to do now that every movement doesn't throb. "H-Huh?"

"Touch helps. Physical comfort can help the healing process, if it's someone we trust," Derek explains. Scott wants to call him on it, remembers saying something similar to an injured woman - what seems like eons ago. But Derek isn't lying. His voice, so close in Scott's ear, is steady, and so is his heartbeat. Fuck, he can _feel_ Derek's pulse against his face, they're so close. "You've been keeping everyone at a distance, not letting yourself heal properly. You don't have to."

How can Scott protest that, when he's wrapped up in warmth and comfort? When this is all he's wanted since seeing Derek again? Since before Derek _left_. (For _years_ , if he's honest with himself.) His hands don't know what to do with themselves, fingers flexing in the fabric of Derek's tank top, reveling in how painless it is. There's a new tension building, and Scott doesn't realize what it is until Derek stills.

Oh.

The warm, shivery tingling sensation isn't just from affection and warmth. And there's no way Derek _can't_ smell the gently burning arousal coming off him, not this close. And Scott isn't sure if he wants to curl closer, to hide, to _act,_ or to run as far as his legs will carry him.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

But he's not pushed away. Derek's hold shifts, handing settling at the curve of his jaw, holding him still as he leans back enough and oh, _oh_ , kissing him so gently. Scott _trembles,_ unable to do anything but gasp and clench his hands in Derek's shirt, as if Derek will just disappear if he lets go. The kiss is gentle but it's anything but chaste, the slick slide of lips and the mingling of breaths between them. It's only when Derek's pulling away that Scott thinks to _do something_ , to press forward and get one good open-mouthed kiss in before he loses his chance.

They just gaze at one another once the kiss is broken. Derek looks… patient. Like he knows that this has just turned Scott's world on its head.

"That wasn't..." He pauses to wet lips. They tingle, feel swollen. "That wasn't a part of the uh… physical comfort thing, right?" He _does_ feel better after the kiss - he feels _great._ But that has less to do with pain and more to do with the elation rushing through his veins.

Derek stares flatly at him, but it loses its effect when his eyes are sparkling and his mouth is shiny and pink.

"I had to ask?" He placates. The urge to kiss him again is too much, and Scott leans closer, hesitating just enough to give Derek a chance to change his mind, before kissing him. Slower, sweeter this time. It feels like he's flying. The next gaze they share is broken by Scott's soft laughter. "So… about operation 'Give Scott McCall a blowjob and a day off?" he jokes.

Derek's grin is lazy, _predatory._ "Ask me again in the morning."

* * *

 **End. Walk on, Traveler of Worlds.**


End file.
